


Adventures in Cyberspace

by Lepord257



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Laser Tag, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepord257/pseuds/Lepord257
Summary: "Oh my God. Oh my God, he had it on repeat. This lanky nerd was listening to the Cyberchase theme song on repeat. How long has this been happening? Did the guy know everyone else could hear him? Did he have any other music on his phone? Grif had so many questions."The only thing shittier than Simmons' music taste is his headphones. Grif notices.





	Adventures in Cyberspace

**Author's Note:**

> Every word of this is the fault of my sister. Also [Mariette](http://lovelyachieve.tumblr.com/). Go check out her [tuckington fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403074/chapters/35748651); it's real good.

Contrary to popular belief, Grif spent a lot of time in the library. He liked the atmosphere. Hundreds of people surrounded by books, tapping away on laptops, cramming in one last study session before the big test or project or paper; all of them far too busy to notice the guy camped out in the corner with a pillow and a package of Oreos. Not to mention there was the silent room where bothering anyone would get you booted from the building. If there was a better place to nap on campus, he had yet to find it.

He was in the silent room when he first heard  _ it. _ Anywhere else on campus it would be too faint to notice, but here, in the dead quiet, it was unmistakable. Someone didn’t have their headphones plugged in all the way. And that someone was listening to the Cyberchase theme song.

Slowly, Grif scanned the room for the source of the noise. Most people had headphones and a few had the fancy noise cancelling ones which seemed a bit redundant but whatever. But only one person could be the culprit.

There. A few tables over sat a redhead with the shittiest headphones Grif had ever seen. The cord was frayed and patched with duct tape and the dude was holding one of the earphones to his ear like it wouldn’t stay in on its own. They might have been the terrible headphones that came with an iPhone once. It was hard to tell under all the DIY repair.

Eventually, the song faded out. There was a few seconds of silence before- 

“- _ Cyberchase, we’re movin’.” _

Oh my God. Oh my  _ God,  _ he had it on repeat. This lanky nerd was listening to the Cyberchase theme song on repeat. How long has this been happening? Did the guy know everyone else could hear him? Did he have any other music on his phone? Grif had so many questions.

The song was on its fourth repeat when Grif’s phone buzzed. Probably Donut. Briefly, he weighed the pros and cons of blowing off the weekly laser tag game in favor of seeing how many times Cyberchase over there would listen to the theme song before deciding the risk of Sarge jumping him on the way home for abandoning the team was too high. One day, Cyberchase. We will meet again.

Laser tag goes predictably terribly. There was a little kid’s birthday party at the arcade, so everyone ended up getting their asses handed them to six year olds in fairy princess costumes. At least Sarge was in good spirits. Something about the pink tutus meaning the Reds got credit for their kill count. He wasn’t actually paying that close attention.

Eventually, Monday rolls around and Grif finds himself back in the library. A quick glance around the silent room reveals no sign of Cyberchase, which can’t be disappointing because he was in no way looking forward to seeing him again. He certainly wasn’t thinking about him the entire weekend and didn’t get tagged by a child because he was too distracted wondering if the guy was a fan of Little Einsteins to notice her sneaking up behind him. Didn’t happen.

He definitely doesn’t get excited when Cyberchase comes in fifteen minutes after Grif, gets out his books and laptop, fails to plug in his shitty headphones, and blasts the Cyberchase theme to the entire silent room. If Grif grins to himself and pulls out his own laptop, it’s only because the guy’s music choice is hilarious.

Cyberchase leaves Grif even more questions four hours later. From the moment he got there to when he left, Cyberchase did nothing but study. Every 52 minutes he left the room, and 17 minutes later he came back with coffee. It was like clockwork. At no point did he listen to anything but the Cyberchase theme song. How was this man even real? Just. What the fuck?

This goes on for a month. Cyberchase comes in, sets up, and studies for four hours to the Cyberchase theme song. Rinse and repeat.

“Have you actually talked to him yet?”

Clearly  _ some people _ (cough Donut cough) are unable to appreciate a mystery. “He’s a random nerd in a library. Why would I talk to him?”

Donut raising an eyebrow was a sight on ordinary days; in the laser tag arena it was a production. His bleached white eyebrows glowed purple in the UV light, turning his eyebrow piercing into a miniature disco ball. The whole world became his unimpressed expression.

“You do talk about him an awful lot.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Like how I was ‘imagining’ the-”

“Men!” Oh thank God, Sarge was here to save him from the air quotes. “The worst has come to pass! Treason! Betrayal!”

“Tucker stole my body glitter again?!” Donut gasped.

“Worse!”

“The staff realized you’re the one duct taping the sensors on the red vests and we’re banned for life,” Grif guessed.

“Even more diabolical than that.”

The door to the lobby slammed open, and in the doorway, silhouetted against the fluorescent lights, were two painfully familiar figures. Sarge let out a wordless, pained cry as the pair sauntered into the room. Grif privately agreed with him once the door closed and his eyes adjusted. It was a scene ripped straight from his nightmares. 

Tucker’s arm was slung around Kai’s shoulders. And she was  _ giggling. _

“Sup, fucks?” Bastard was  _ smirking at him _ . This could not stand. “Guess who just joined Blue Team?”

“I always knew the Grif line was steeped in shame and inadequacy, but this is too far! Private Grif, control your wayward sister!”

“Ok, first of all, I never agreed to your ranking system.”

“Insubordination!”

“Second, Kai, what the fuck?”

“You’re just jealous I’m getting free drinks for life. Get on my level, cocksucker!”

“If you’re done,” an attendant cut in, “you only have reservations till 7:30, so maybe put on the vests and get the fuck out of my lobby.”

“We settle this on the battlefield! To your battle stations!”

Grif fixed Kai with a death glare that she cheerfully ignored. “We are not done with this conversation.”

“Just cause you’re not getting your dick sucked doesn’t mean you can ride mine,” she said, breazing past him into the arena.

“Wait, what? Fucking- At least I have standards!”

Everything was terrible. Between Blue team’s extra member and Sarge giving away their positions yelling about dirty, backstabbing blues, Red Team didn’t stand a chance. The only point they managed to score was when Donut got a hit on the Blue’s seemingly unguarded base. Seemingly. Grif hadn’t thought the Blue’s had enough brainpower to plan an actual ambush, and yet they managed. So of course, Sarge was blaming Grif.

“Grif.”

“Fuck off.”   
  
“This is your fault.”

“Blame Tucker.”

This was not a conversation Grif wanted to be having right now. Or ever. But especially not now. Sometime during the laser tag game it had started snowing and his apartment was a 15 minute walk from the arcade. A walk Kai would not be joining him on because she was off getting victory drinks with the Blues. Which meant she was getting drinks with Tucker. Fuck everything about this.

“It would take a vile son of a bitch to seduce one of our own to the dark side. But!” Why was Sarge still walking with him? He lived in the opposite direction. “Only someone sharing your defective genes could have fallen for such an obvious ploy. Which means I can blame you!”   
  
“Sure.” Seriously, it had to be in the negatives.

“Private Grif!” Sarge sped up and spun to face him, walking backwards through the snow. “I order you to fix this!”

“Still haven’t agreed to the ranking system.” Why did his car have to be in the shop? “And what makes you think I have any control over what Kaikaina does?”

“You have one week before I court martial your sorry ass!”

“Fucking- fine! Go home, you crazy asshole!”

Sarge stepped aside, seemingly mollified. “One week!”

“Go home!”

For the next two days, Grif fails both to talk Kai out of sort-of-but-not-really dating Tucker and not think about what a court martial from an unofficial laser tag team looks like when the guy threatening to court martial you is a crazy gun nut. It was not a particularly restful weekend. Monday was almost a relief.

Monday meant the library. Nothing is better for numbing your brain than a library. If the silence doesn’t put you to sleep, the redheads with terrible music taste will ensure you won’t be able to think about anything else for hours afterwards. Cyberchase: a solitary fixed point in a sea of chaos.

He’d been there for an hour and a half when his phone buzzed. If it was another text from Kai telling him to mind his own business- or it could be a text from Sarge. Since when did Sarge have his number? He thought the old man deleted it three months ago after declaring Grif’s contact info the reason his battery was shit. He’d insisted Donut text Grif for him ever since.

Despite his better judgement, he opened the text. It was a single gun emoji. Not ominous at all. 

You know… Sarge never said outright that he had to get Kai to switch teams. He just said ‘fix it’. That could mean anything, if you think about it.

He looked down at his phone. He looked up at the redhead. He thought about Donut saying he should talk to him. He thought about ignoring Donut. He looked down at his phone. He tore a piece of paper out of the notebook he hadn’t actually written anything in, balls it up, and throws it at the nerd’s head.

“Hey, Cyberchase.”

Cyberchase looked up, agast. He made a couple of high pitched noises that might have been protests, but weren’t actual words. Grif takes this as permission to continue.

“Laser tag. Blood Gulch Arcade. Friday at seven.”

Mission accomplished. He leans back in his chair and settles in for a marathon nap in celebration.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

Grif faked a snore. Mission. Accomplished.

For the rest of the week, nothing changes except for Cyberchase buying better headphones. Grif tells Sarge he’s got everything handled and doesn’t get an almost certainly illegal handgun waved in his face for daring to approach him outside of designated laser tag areas so he counts it as a win. He’s not entirely sure the guy will show up, but hey he tried. Points for effort, right?

Friday, a few minutes before seven, Grif shivered in the snow, wondering if Sarge would actually kick him off Red Team if Cyberchase didn’t show. Maybe he’d join Blue Team, become the most efficient cockblocker in history. Or maybe he’d go home and binge Battlestar Galactica for the three hundredth time. Probably the latter.

“Hey, fatass!” Or, Cyberchase would show up rendering the whole thing a moot point. “I can’t believe you!”   
  


“Hello to you too.”

“In front of the whole library! We were in the silent room! It’s  _ dead week! _ How do you even have time to play laser tag; you should be studying!”

“And yet, you came,” Grif said, grinning.

There’s the wordless, sputtering protests from the library back for vengeance. He wondered idly how many times he could wring them out of the nerd before their inevitable defeat and the hands of the Blues. Had to be a lot, right? And it wouldn’t involve running. Tonight might actually be fun.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by Sarge flinging open the door. “Private Grif! I see you’ve recruited another soldier to our glorious cause.”

“I- huh?” Oh my God, his face was starting to match his hair. This was the best day.

“Be proud, Grif. Apparently even someone as worthless as you can have a moment of competency.”

“Was that a compliment? Are you feeling ok?”

“ _ A _ moment, Private. It should serve to highlight how terrible the rest of your life is destined to be.”

There’s a delighted gasp from somewhere behind Sarge, and then Donut is pushing past him to give Cyberchase the most uncomfortable handshake of his life. “You must be Cyberchase! Grif’s told us all about you! Well, he’s told us you listen to Cyberchase and study a lot. I’m sure we’ll have time for a deep, thorough getting to know you session later!”

“I- what?” was Cyberchase’s only protest before Donut dragged him into the arcade. Good luck to you, you poor, awkward soul.

They still lose. Cyberchase does his best to follow Sarge’s incomprehensible and often contradictory instructions which has the unexpected benefit of getting the old man off of Grif’s back for entire minutes at a time. He even thinks he hears the nerd call Sarge ‘sir’ at one point, and it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. Afterwards, while everyone’s heading their separate ways, Grif reflects that it’s the most fun he’s had playing in years. Even Kai and Tucker heading out together doesn’t put a damper on his mood.

Eventually, Grif and Simmons were the only ones left, standing side by side surrounded by flashing arcade games and bored employees. “So,” said Simmons, breaking the surprisingly non-awkward silence. “You do this every week?”

“Mhm.” Grif nods. “This is the last one before classes start again after break, but yeah. Every week for the past two years.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. So is it like, anyone can play, or-” He blushes and trails off. Grif rolls his eyes.

“If you don’t come back, I think Sarge might actually shoot me.”

Cyberchase looks alarmed, and then contemplative, then mortified, then determined all in the span of a few seconds. Grif  _ had  _ to get him to play poker with him at some point. He’d be terrible at it.

“I could-” Cyberchase cuts himself off, takes a deep breath and continues. What a nerd. “I could give you my number. For laser tag purposes.”

“For laser tag purposes,” Grif repeats.

“That’s what I said!”

“Sure,” he says, letting his smirk color his voice. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at Cyberchase expectantly. Cyberchase looks back at him. “Number, dude.”

“Right!” Cyberchase snatches the phone from his hands and types in. “I’ll um. I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Sure.”

“Sure.” Cyberchase starts towards the exit, remembers he’s still holding Grif’s phone, doubles back, and beats a hasty retreat. What a  _ nerd. _

It’s not until weeks later when Grif tries to send him the new meeting times that he realizes Cyberchase isn’t actually his name. He likes ‘Simmons’ better anyway.


End file.
